


I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

by haloeverlasting



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Falling In Love, Featuring, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Neighbors, a touch of self doubt, a very comfortable couch, a weird sheep named Wilson, and some mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 20:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloeverlasting/pseuds/haloeverlasting
Summary: Louis takes a deep breath, and replies very quickly to get it over with, “Well, see, I don’t have any heat in my flat right now and it’s hard enough to go to sleep when I’m bloody freezing—”“Oh god. And my music’s gone and made it even worse,” Harry cuts in.“Well, it only went out today,” Louis explains, “So it wasn’t that bad before, erm. Now.”“Before?” Harry asks, horrified. “How long has this been?”“Oh, erm,” Louis folds his hands where they hang in front of him and admits, “All week.”Harry visibly wilts. He looks so sad, it makes Louis feel awful. He’s gone and crushed someone’s Christmas spirit. Some beautiful boy who looks like Danny Zuko is sad now and it’s Louis’ fault, which means he doesn’t stand a chance at being the cute neighbor from the floor below. And now he’s going to have to sleep in his freezing cold flat knowing he may as well have ruined Christmas.Or, Louis' heat is out, Harry's a terrible upstairs neighbor, and an empty Christmas tree is the perfect excuse to fall in love.





	I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shesnotafraidofshadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shesnotafraidofshadows/gifts).



> Hiiii! 
> 
> Title is from a song of the same title. I googled the original release at some point, and I don't remember, but I recommend the Ingrid Michaelson version for it's lovely, wintry vibes. ;) 
> 
> Thank you to my beautiful betas. You're a couple of my favorite people. 
> 
> This little fic is for Shesnotafraidofshadows, based on one of their lovely prompts. I hope you love this as much as I loved writing it! <3

Louis is going to kill his upstairs neighbor. He lies in his bed, with his eyes squeezed shut, under three heavy blankets and seriously considers what he has around his flat that would make for a good weapon. Something that appears non-threatening so he can approach the bloke up there and catch him by surprise. 

Christmas music blares on high just above him, and Louis doesn’t  _ want _ to have a holly jolly Christmas, dammit. Not when he’s stuck in his freezing cold flat. It’s just not his day. Not his week, really. 

Louis had known this Christmas season was going to be a little more difficult. Starting a new job was hard enough, but in a whole new city and so close to the holidays—it was a bit of a nightmare. 

What he  _ hadn’t _ anticipated was to make enemies at work on his first day, as the culprit who broke the office coffee pot. He  _ definitely _ hadn’t anticipated a broken heater, and a maintenance man who wouldn’t be back from vacation for three days with no backup. And better yet, he hadn’t anticipated the upstairs neighbor playing Christmas music at high volume odd hours of the night.

Louis shivers again, because of course three heavy blankets isn’t really enough to protect him from the wintry tundra that is his bedroom. But he’d fallen asleep once, he could do it again. If he could just find a way to block out the sound. 

Louis whimpers a little when he remembers that tomorrow is Saturday. As difficult as his first week at work has been, at least the office building was heated. Now he’s going to have to find someplace else to hang out all day so he doesn’t die of hypothermia. He’s not convinced he won’t already from the few short hours he’s been enduring it. 

Louis shuts his eyes, and sniffs a little, curling in on himself and attempting to swallow down his rage and  grin and bear it. All of it. And then the song switches to _ The Twelve Days of Christmas _ . At the first  _ mention _ of a damn partridge in the fucking pear tree Louis sees red. He pushes the blankets off of him all at once, winces at the cold air against his skin, steps into a pair of fuzzy slippers and marches out of his bedroom, straight into the hallway of his building. 

He finds the downright offensive music coming from apartment twenty eight and, blind with anger, he pounds on the door. A moment after his knocking he hears the music come to a full stop. He puts his hand back at his side and waits for the door to open. 

It does, and Louis’ mouth promptly falls open. 

This guy’s heat is  _ working _ , which means Louis might be the only person in the entire building left to suffer, and the rage he’s been consumed with all evening triples. Until he looks up. 

Standing before him is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. He’s got the face of an angel, big green eyes, and plump gorgeous lips, and these killer cheekbones that frame his face perfectly. Louis is actually worried he’s disturbed some sort of tantalizing demigod that lives in his building. He’s tall, and lean, and one glance at his arms has Louis feeling stunned. Is he  _ drooling _ ? Oh god. 

“Hi,” the man says, leaning against the doorframe easily and artfully tousling his thick curls. A strand falls to the front, resting against his forehead so he appears as Louis’ own personal Danny Zuko fantasy come to life, and life  _ isn’t fair _ , you know? 

“Um, hi,” Louis says, suddenly  _ very _ aware of his pink fuzzy slippers, and how dishevelled he must look. 

“I’m Harry,” he says, extending a hand. He smiles, and a dimple appears, and Louis kind of wants to drop dead right there. 

“Louis,” he replies, accepting Harry’s handshake self consciously. He wishes he could fix his hair, or go for a quick change of clothes or something. 

“Nice to meet you,” Harry says. “You must be new to the building.” 

Louis nods, “Yeah, I’m just below you actually. How’d you know?” 

“I’d remember a face like yours,” Harry remarks, the dimple on his left cheek reappearing. 

Louis blushes a little at the glint in Harry’s eye. 

“Did you, erm,  need something, Louis?” Harry asks.

And oh,  _ right _ . Louis was furious a few moments ago, and now here he stands, flabbergasted by a cute boy. 

“Oh, erm, well,” Louis stammers a bit. Both hands behind his back, Louis shrugs a bit and admits, “I actually wondered if you could just… turn your music down a bit?” 

There. That was firm, but still friendly. Maybe friendly enough to be invited inside? 

“Oh,” Harry frowns. “Was it loud?” 

Louis nearly rolls his eyes at him. He’s cute, but he can’t possibly be that daft. 

“Do you really have to ask?” 

Harry’s bottom lip juts out a bit in an apologetic pout. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” 

“Honestly?” Louis asks, wondering what he should say. He’s only met this guy, but Louis finds himself wanting to impress him. And the truth? The truth is pathetic. 

“Of course, honestly,” Harry answers. 

Louis takes a deep breath, and replies very quickly to get it over with, “Well, see, I don’t have any heat in my flat right now and it’s hard enough to go to sleep when I’m bloody  _ freezing _ —” 

“Oh god. And my music’s gone and made it even worse,” Harry cuts in. 

“Well, it only went out today,” Louis explains, “So it wasn’t  _ that  _ bad before, erm. Now.” 

“ _ Before? _ ” Harry asks, horrified. “How long has this been?” 

“Oh, erm,” Louis folds his hands where they hang in front of him and admits, “All week.” 

Harry visibly wilts. He looks so sad, it makes Louis feel awful. He’s gone and crushed someone’s Christmas spirit. Some beautiful boy who looks like Danny Zuko is sad now and it’s Louis’ fault, which means he doesn’t stand a chance at being the cute neighbor from the floor below. And now he’s going to have to sleep in his freezing cold flat knowing he may as well have ruined Christmas. 

Louis is about to walk away, say thank you and goodnight and be on his merry (read: devastated) way before Harry breaks the uncomfortable silence between them. 

“Would you like a gingerbread cookie?” Harry puckers his lips a bit, and takes his bottom lip between his teeth before he continues, “Seriously, I insist. Come on in and let me get you one. It’s the least I can do.” 

Louis sways a little where he stands. Is he really about to sport pink fuzzy slippers and a bad attitude in a stranger’s flat for some gingerbread cookies? 

“Do you like gingerbread? I could bake something else,” Harry offers. “Or, I have wine?” 

Obviously Harry only wants to clear his conscience, but his flat is so  _ warm _ and Louis is so relieved by it that he really doesn’t think of it as taking advantage. Besides, in Harry’s own guilt, he seems genuinely eager to have Louis’ company. So as Louis steps inside and toes off his slippers, he tells himself this is mutually beneficial. 

Louis follows Harry round the corner to his kitchen, where there’s a pan full of gingerbread men, fresh out of the oven. 

Harry grabs a spatula and gently picks one up off the pan, places it on a small dish and hands it to Louis. 

“Make yourself at home, and have a seat out there. I’ll be back in a second.” 

Louis takes his cookie to the living room as he was told, and sits on Harry’s giant sectional couch. He sinks into it, remembering just how tired he is from this shitty week, and he realizes that Harry’s made a grave mistake inviting him into his home. It’s so warm here, and this couch is so soft, and Harry comes around the corner looking downright ethereal, carrying a giant blanket over his arm and a plate full of cookies. 

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to feed a stray?” Louis teases. 

“I’ve always been bad at that,” Harry grins. “You comfortable? Warm?” 

Louis nods, “Yeah, mate. I’m fine.” 

“Great,” Harry says. “Do you wanna stay here tonight?” 

“Oh, I don’t wanna put you out like that...” Louis lies—it’s only polite. 

“You’re not!” Harry insists. “Honestly, it’s the least I can do for disturbing you all week.” 

Louis doesn’t like feeling like a charity case. There’s a reason he planned to suck it up and stay in his flat this weekend, but now that he’s here, with a blanket, a soft surface beneath him, and a kind-spirited man inviting him to stay, the offer is incredibly tempting. 

“I don’t know…” Louis hesitates anyway. He just wishes there was some leverage here. He’s only at Harry’s door because he marched up the stairs and demanded quiet, and now he’s been given much more than that. 

“I promise, I don’t mind. It’s freezing tonight, and I don’t feel good about letting you sleep somewhere that cold.” 

“You just met me,” Louis reasons. 

“Does it matter?” Harry asks, and when he puts it that way, Louis’ not sure it does. 

Louis shrugs, “I guess not. If you really don’t mind.” 

“I really don’t,” Harry confirms. He smiles meekly, “Will you let me play some music, though? I’ll put it on low, I promise.”

Louis smiles, amused by his request, but nods anyway. 

Harry beams and hits play on the device hooked up to his speakers. He turns the volume down low, and  _ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas _ starts playing softly around them. Harry only has one lamp on, and the dark ambience paired with the music might seem… romantic, if Louis weren’t so sleepy. 

He settles in, and Harry leaves him alone in the room for a moment. 

He returns with a box, setting it gently on the floor as he starts digging through it. There’s a few accompanying tinkly sounds and paper rustling together. 

“Whatcha doin?” Louis asks softly. 

Harry looks up from his box, a sheepish look on his face. “Decorating. Is it too loud?” 

Louis wants to laugh. Instead he says, “It’s fine.” 

“Are you sure? I’m feeling festive tonight, but it can totally wait till tomorrow.” 

Louis can’t conceal an answering chuckle this time, “Nah, you’ve been nice enough. Decorate all you want.” 

Harry grins, pulling out a long piece of gold tinsel and wrapping it around his neck like a boa. Louis giggles, and watches as Harry pulls out snowman after snowman and little posters in red and green. Harry looks at all of it like it’s puzzling, and he sifts through setting things in different piles. 

“Where’s your tree?” Louis asks. 

Harry grimaces, “Oh, it’s in another box. I’m looking for my wall decorations first, but these are… not the right ones.” 

He scowls into the box, looking like a disgruntled kitten, with the tinsel around his neck. Harry eventually puts all the contents back into the box, except for the tinsel. He leaves again, this time returning with a different box and he pulls out all the parts of his tree. 

It’s funny at first, the way Harry sets his tree out in pieces across the floor, looking more confused by the second. He eventually finds the parts of the stand. Louis nearly laughs out loud at Harry’s fourth attempt to put the pieces together. He drops it all and pouts and Louis thinks Harry must’ve forgotten he was there, because when Harry glances up, the look in his eye is somewhere between bashful and embarrassed. 

He’s gorgeous, kind,  _ and _ adorable, and Louis doesn’t know how to handle all of this at once. It’s a bit much, is all. 

“Do you need some help with that?” Louis asks, from under his blanket heap. 

Harry smiles warmly, an unexpected response to follow his clear embarrassment only a second ago. “Nah, you look comfortable.” 

Louis smiles widely, mildly ashamed at how impossible it is to bite it back. “I don’t mind. You look very confused.” 

“Yeah, well.” Harry shrugs. “I’ve never actually put this tree up by myself before.” 

“First Christmas alone?” Louis asks. Harry looks down quickly, a long sigh escaping him in response, and Louis wishes he hadn’t asked such an insensitive question. 

“Yeah,” Harry admits. “It is.” 

Louis thought he’d learned his lesson, but he finds himself only wanting to pry further. It’s not a good idea at all, but he does really want to ask him who used to put the tree up. Is he new to the area, or just new to being alone? 

Before he gets the chance, Harry asks, “How about you? You live alone, right? Or is there someone else we need to invite up here?” 

“No, it’s just me. And, erm. It’s my first Christmas alone too.” 

“Break up?” Harry asks, tentatively. Louis’ heart hurts a bit at the look in his eye. It would seem that’s why Harry’s alone for Christmas. He almost wishes it were so, just so that Harry might find some solidarity with him. 

“No, I’m just really new to the area, and I can’t afford the trip home.” Louis tells him, quickly. He hesitates a moment before he starts to ask, “Did you…?”

“Break up, yeah.” Harry admits, sheepishly. “It was at the start of the year, so honestly, it’s not even that I miss  _ him _ , it’s just that I’ve not really had Christmas without someone before.” 

Louis swallows back a lump in his throat when Harry says “him.” He tries not to dwell on the selfish reaction, but Louis finds his brain looping back and forth from true sympathy to a giddy  _ he’s single  _ and _ he’s gay _ .

“And you’ve always pawned the tree off on them?” Louis asks, teasing. He hopes he can lighten the mood, admittedly because it gives him a chance to turn up the charm. 

Harry grins back at him. “I mean, yeah, basically.” 

“You bake the gingerbread cookies, and they build the tree. Huh. Not a bad set up if you ask me.” 

“I suppose, yes,” Harry says. 

“So really, you should let me help build your tree. Since you gave me cookies.” 

“I gave you cookies because my loud music ruined your night in your freezing cold flat.” 

“But then you offered to let me stay here!” 

“Because your heat is broken and I didn’t want to be responsible if you froze to death.” 

“Oh my god, will you just let me help you with your tree so I don’t have to watch you pout at it for the next hour?” 

Harry huffs a defeated laugh at that, and nods. “Yeah, yeah, fine. You can help me.” 

And so together they assemble Harry’s artificial tree. It takes them several tries. Harry trips over each individual piece at least twice, and Louis ends up crying laughing at some point watching Harry try to put a part in upside down for fifteen minutes. Louis had tried to show him, but Harry kept saying he understood, and proceeded to put the piece in upside down again anyway. 

When it’s finished, they survey their work together. Louis puts his hands on his hips and turns a little toward Harry before he says, “Now to decorate, eh?” 

Harry chuckles, but Louis notices the way he slouches sadly. 

“What is it?” Louis asks. 

Harry crosses his arms and shrugs, huffing a little before he replies, “He took all the good decorations.” 

Louis remembers how puzzled Harry had looked earlier, sifting through a box of wall decor. 

“I think he even took my stocking,” Harry laughs humorlessly. “Don’t know what he needs with a stocking with my name on it, but, you know, whatever.” 

Louis frowns. He extends an arm and pats Harry’s shoulder consolingly. He mutters an apology, after realizing he may be stepping out of bounds. He only met Harry a couple hours ago. Still, Harry looks grateful. 

“I’m just gonna call it a night, I think.” Harry exhales. “I’ll figure out the decoration situation tomorrow.” 

Louis nods. “At least the tree is up. And only slightly dented!” 

Harry laughs. “Oh, shut up. That’s your fault. You tripped me that time.” 

“No, you tripped  _ on _ me. I was minding my own business,” Louis teases. 

“Likely story,” Harry replies, a playful smirk on his face. 

They’re quiet a moment, and Harry takes the plates he’d set out back to the kitchen, shutting the light off on his way back. 

“Do you need anything? A pillow or anything?” 

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Louis replies. “Thank you again, for letting me stay here. It’s really lovely of you.” 

“Least I can do. Thanks for dealing with my loud Christmas music all week.” Harry smiles, moseying over to the hallway. “Well. Goodnight, Lou.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Louis lies down on Harry’s couch in the dark, and goes to sleep with a smile on his face. 

 

___

 

The morning had been fine. More or less awkward, as Louis had said his thank you’s and Harry had wished him luck. Harry told him he was welcome back if he needed anything. It was a lovely gesture, but Louis wasn’t sure if Harry was  _ actually _ up for a visitor all weekend long, so he didn’t bother to tell him that he’d likely be without heat until Monday. 

However, It only takes one step into his icebox of a flat before he decides there is no way he can stay there the next night, or the night after that. 

He changes his clothes, muttering bitterly at how cold the material is against his skin. He packs a small bag with his laptop, and a few work things and decides to spend his afternoon somewhere heated as planned. There’s this small part of him that wishes it weren’t too soon to find his way back upstairs to Harry’s. 

He’s lonely. He can and does admit that (at least to his mother). Louis doesn’t do well for long periods of time on his own, and he’s already had a surplus of alone time in the last week. That must be the  _ real _ reason he’s got the itch to visit Harry again. It’s also been a while since he’s met someone and something clicked. And maybe he’s just desperate to click with  _ anyone _ . He could’ve been imaging it with Harry. He just thinks Harry is beautiful, and kind, and funny, and adorably clumsy. But maybe Louis is just lonely and his flat is cold. That’s all. That’s not reason enough to use Harry for his warm flat. 

Louis is walking down the street with his things in a bag round his shoulder, when he sees a beautiful display in a shop across the way. There’s a tree with glittery bulbs, and white lights, and tinsel, and of course, Louis’ mind is brought to Harry and his bare tree.

And that’s when it hits him. He could make some sort of trade with Harry. Harry couldn’t possibly turn him away if Louis came with some sort of offering, could he? All Louis needs is a warm place to stay and some company. It’s not too much to ask in return for a little Christmas magic, is it? 

Louis walks into the shop and grabs everything off the shelves he thinks Harry might like. He’s reminded of how little he actually  _ knows _ of Harry when he looks at everything he placed in his cart as a just-in-case purchase. He’s a little embarrassed at his impulse to buy out the store for the sake of this person he’s only just met.

Louis shakes it off, and settles for a nice set of bulbs and lights for the tree. But then he sees something at the end of the aisle. He walks quickly to it and finds exactly what he’d hoped: a wall with stockings of red and green, each with an initial inscribed in gold. Louis searches the wall for an H and grins triumphantly before he proceeds to checkout. 

Louis doesn’t waste any time once he arrives home, completely bypassing his own flat for the stairs down the hall. He walks up the stairs with his bags and comes to a hard stop at Harry’s door. He knocks before he can think better of it, and when the door opens, he finds a very surprised Harry on the other side. 

“Oh, um. Hi, Louis,” Harry says. 

He seems uncomfortable. Shit. Maybe Louis shouldn’t have come here so soon. He should have texted first. Does he have Harry’s number? He doesn’t think he does. He couldn’t have texted him anyway, but there had to be some way to double check with him that this was fine. Is it fine? The idea of staying in his own flat tonight is physically  _ painful _ but it may actually be less difficult than the embarrassment he’s feeling right now. 

“Hi,” he says finally. “My heat’s still out, but I’ve brought you something.” 

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise, “They still haven’t fixed your heat?” 

Louis rolls his eyes a little, “No, they told me it may not be fixed until Monday.” 

“Oh, god,”  Harry says, horrified. “Come on in. What’s in the bag?” 

Louis feels such relief at the invitation his shoulders loosen as he walks through the entrance. Then he remembers his gift, and his cheeks go warm. This may not have been a good idea. What if Harry gets the wrong impression? 

Louis isn’t sure  _ what _ that could be, but it seems possible somehow that his gift could be misconstrued anyway. 

“It’s… for you.” Louis admits, sheepishly, shoving the bag in Harry’s direction. 

Harry smirks a little, and Louis wishes he didn’t look so cocky about it. He can see the gleam of confusion as well, and it makes him feel even worse. He must look like such a creep, showing back up here the very next night with a present. He regrets every choice he’s made up to this point… until he hears Harry gasp softly. 

“Did you… buy me decorations?” Harry asks, astounded. 

Louis nods his head, “Yeah, sorry, I can take them back if you don’t want them, I just—”

“Are you stupid?” Harry asks, “Of course I want them.”

Louis’ relieved when he realizes that the stocking is in a separate plastic bag—one that Louis secured in his shoulder bag. This is enough embarrassment for one night.  

Louis fixes his fringe self consciously. “I thought, maybe, I could help you decorate your tree? As a thank you. It can’t be easy lending your couch to a near stranger.” 

Harry sets the bag down on the table. “It’s not  _ that _ hard. Besides, we’re friends now. At least, that’s how it always worked back in school.” 

“Back in school?” Louis asks, amusement in his eyes. 

“Yeah. One good sleepover, and you’re friends for life, right?” Harry grins, and shrugs like this is the simplest conclusion in the world. 

“Friends for life, huh?” 

“Sure! Beats calling you the stray I saved from downstairs.” 

Louis cackles, “Gee, thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” Harry dimples, and a ridiculous halo may as well appear over his head. “Are you staying? Please say you’ll stay. I can’t  _ believe _ they won’t fix your heat until Monday. It’s ridiculous.” 

Louis smiles warmly, and he nods quickly. “I’ll stay if you’ll have me.” 

“Perfect,” Harry grins.  “Are you hungry? I made chili!” 

Louis shrugs off his coat, and Harry takes it, and something feels different now. It feels lighter than the night before—warm and welcoming. “I’d take some chili, yeah.”

They eat dinner at the table, where the lighting is warm, and the banter is easy. Louis is  _ mostly _ used to how damn attractive Harry is, only stunned to an awkward silence once when he tells Harry he’s got chili on his face above his lip. Harry licks at it lightly, and Louis thinks he might faint until Harry crosses his eyes goofily, and Louis laughs at his expense. 

When they’ve finished, Louis feels like he’s filled his stomach twice, and his belly juts out just a little more than usual. 

Harry exhales loudly and asks, “Alright, I’ll clean this up, and then do you wanna get all the decorations out for the tree?”

Louis groans. “Now? Aren’t you too full to move?” 

Harry chuckles. “I take it you are?” 

“Just a little,” Louis admits, exhaling slowly. He might actually go into labor with a food baby this big. 

“I mean, I can start without you,” Harry suggests. 

Louis protests quickly, trying not to groan when he sits up too fast. “Of course you can’t start  _ without _ me.” 

“No?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Well what else do you propose? I don’t want to kill time watching you digest your food.” 

Louis laughs, and throws his hands up in mock frustration, “How could you not be interested in that?”

“I mean, why do that when we could watch paint dry.” 

“Drying paint doesn’t make near as much noise as I do,” Louis reasons. 

Harry smirks, like he’s in on some kind of joke. And in a  _ very  _ rare occasion, Louis is too slow on the uptake. “What?” 

Harry only dimples harder, “You know what you said.” 

“Do I? Do I really?” Just as Louis finishes asking, his brain catches up to his mouth, and his cheeks burn red. 

Harry only laughs harder and stands, both their dishes in hand, and carries them to the kitchen, giggling all the way. 

Louis is extremely embarrassed, but also, he loves this. He loves being here. He loves teasing, and being teased by Harry. Really, he just enjoys his company. And of course, the heat. This is still mostly about the heat, and not the adorable boy washing dishes in the kitchen. 

Louis shakes himself out of it, and stands up. The ornaments are on the other side of the table, so Louis walks around and pokes into the bag, pulling out the individual boxes. 

The dishes don’t take Harry long, so he makes his entrance soon after Louis’ managed to open the box of bulbs for the tree. Harry slips into the spot right next to Louis, and reaches for the box of lights. 

“Multi-color?” he chuckles lowly. 

“Yeah,” Louis confirms, “What’s wrong with that?” 

“Just, most people agree that white lights are nicer,” Harry explains, smiling wide, though it’s clear he feels awkward—the way his knees are turned toward each other, and how he scratches the back of his neck gives it away. 

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Louis rebuts. “Multi-color Christmas lights are the actual  _ heart _ of Christmas. They’re more fun, they’re spirited, they’re gay—” 

Harry snorts, “Are they?” 

“Rainbows are cool. Duh.” 

Harry raises his eyebrow, and pretends to look Louis over, but he grins and his eyes sparkle when he admits, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Multi-colored lights it is.” 

Louis harrumphs victoriously, and returns to his bulbs and their packaging. The tape is stronger than he was expecting, and six bulbs per plastic sheet are stacked on top of each other. Once Louis finally releases the top layer, he realizes the bulbs are also stuck to the plastic. 

“This shit’s secure, innit?” Louis regards the packaging, seriously, happy to hear Harry’s answering laugh. 

“Need some help?” 

“If you’re offering, yeah,” Louis says, pushing the two sheets of plastic that are still stuck together to his left, so they sit right in front of Harry. 

Harry has less trouble with the bulbs than Louis does, and once everything’s set out, they get to work. 

They start with the lights, and Louis’ completely unsurprised by the amount of times Harry trips over them. Once he nearly takes out the tree, and the two of them laugh hideously for several minutes. They end up on the floor sitting across from each other. Harry does the honors and plugs the lights in, and they both take a minute to take in the sight. 

“You’re right. Much more spirited.” Harry says, tapping Louis’ leg lightly with his foot. 

“Lucky for you, I’ll take any chance I can to say I told you so.” 

“Will you?” Harry giggles. 

“Yep. Told you so.” Louis shrugs, nonchalantly, and it sends Harry into another fit of giggles.

They decorate the tree with their bulbs next; Louis picked some standard silver ones. Granted, they are glittery. Still, when Louis saw them he was reminded of the tinsel Harry had worn around his neck the night before and knew the man couldn’t possibly be against a little glitter. 

He starts to feel sorry when the glitter sheds off of it with every move they make. The guilt immediately disappears when he catches Harry admiring the sparkles on his hands a second later. 

What a darling boy, honestly. 

They run out of decorations pretty quickly, and Louis watches as Harry stands and puts both hands on his hips, his gut sticking out slightly. He surveys the tree and sighs heavily. 

“What is it?” Louis asks.

“Just… trying to figure out how I can fill space without putting my bullshit leftover ornaments on it.” 

Louis hums thoughtfully, and strokes his chin, maintaining his gaze on Harry so that he’ll meet it. When he does, Louis grins and asks, “Bullshit leftover ornaments?” 

Harry giggles softly, a pretty pink flooding his cheeks. “The ornaments my ex left me with. They’re bullshit.” 

“Okay, but like what are they?” 

“Just the weird, random ones, that we picked up from place to place. I think some of them came from my mom, and others he found in a thrift store. They’re really random and—” 

“Perfect!” Louis cuts in, loudly. Much louder than the situation calls for, however the sudden spike in his enthusiasm at least makes Harry laugh. “Let’s see this treasure trove.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, though his smile doesn’t leave them. “Alright, I’ll let you have a look.” 

Harry disappears towards what Louis assumes is his room, and carries a box back out with him. One look inside and Louis understands why Harry named it bullshit. It’s the most random knick-knacks, from a green M&M figurine in a Santa hat leaning against a red a chimney, to a strange plush sheep with lace sewn around the edges like a whole body halo.

The confusion must read clearly on his face because Harry takes one look at him and laughs. “Quite the treasure trove, huh?” 

“You know what? I think we can use this.” 

“Are you joking?” 

“Of course not. Do they have like… any sentimental feelings attached for you?” Louis checks with him to be sure. He wants to make Harry smile, not bring him down. 

“No, they’re random as hell,” Harry shrugs easily. 

“Perfect,” Louis nods determinedly, pulling out just a few bits and bobs and staring at them intently, hoping a few will jump out as worthy for the cause. 

Harry lifts an eyebrow and watches Louis expectantly. 

Louis hangs the weird plush sheep first (he’s named it Wilson and now he’s attached), and hangs a gold Mickey Mouse head a few branches above it to the left. He finds what he can only guess is a plastic, unwrapped candy bar next and hangs that toward the bottom, and so on. 

After several minutes, Harry laughs loudly and asks, “What are you  _ doing _ ?” 

“Decorating your tree,” Louis says. “Duh.” 

“You say duh more than my sister did in high school,” Harry jabs. 

“I’ve said it  _ twice _ .” 

“I just need you to explain to me why you’re picking the ornaments that you are.” 

Louis shrugs, and avoids Harry’s gaze as he stares determinedly between a tiny silver tinsel wreath, and a sparkly glass dove ornament. “What do you want to know?” 

“Are you picking the weirdest you can find?” 

“No, I’m picking the ornaments that speak to me.” 

Harry makes a short noise of bewilderment, something between a laugh and an affronted huff. “What the hell does this say to you?” 

He points to Wilson first and Louis bites back his own smile best he can, though his mouth takes on a small v shape before he admits, “I’ve named him Wilson, and he’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. I love him. He’s sick.” 

Harry fights back his laughter, scrunching his nose tight, and points to the weird unwrapped candy bar at the bottom of the tree next, “And this?” 

“Oh, that just looks like your tree is taking a shit.” 

Harry laughs so hard he has to sit down, and he just keeps laughing, a quaking heap on the floor. Louis is so proud of himself, it feels like he’s won something. And Louis  _ loves _ winning. 

Harry takes a few deep breaths, trying to collect himself, but he still hiccups a few giggles mid-breath, before he moves on. “What’s with the Mickey Mouse one?” 

Louis’ cheeks warm a tad, as he looks at Mickey on the tree, and back at Harry. “Oh, that one is just…” he pauses, and rubs his hands together, a little self-consciously, “I just thought it’d be fun to go to Disney with you.” 

Harry’s giggles subside, and in their place is a warm look in his eyes. Harry looks as soft and inviting as his couch had the night before, and maybe the comparison is weird, but after the week Louis’ had, both have warmed over his freezing heart all the same. 

“Are you gonna pick the dove?” Harry asks then, and something new has settled over them. Something bright, and comfortable. 

“Dunno. It’s lovely, but I feel like the wreath gives way for a great joke about a drag queen’s asshole.” 

Harry positively  _ honks _ at that, placing two hands to his belly before he falls backwards to lie on his back and laugh at the ceiling. 

“Throw it away,” he says loudly. “I never want to see it again.” 

Louis’ grin feels so wide it could split his face, “The dove it is.” 

Their evening is peaceful from there, though not without more laughter between the two of them. Time drifts by quickly, though the evening feels stretched out so that this near stranger Louis is with feels like his oldest friend. 

It’s nearing midnight when Harry stretches out on the couch beside Louis, a head on his shoulder, both their ribs sore from laughing. Harry keeps poking Louis’ to make him flinch because he doesn’t believe that Louis has laughed near as much as he has. 

It’s nice. All of it is so nice. He can’t believe how nice it is, and how at ease he feels with Harry. He’d been worried about feeling like a burden, but Harry makes it feel like he’s been invited here—like they’re old friends. 

“Thanks for doing this with me,” Harry says suddenly. “You’ve helped a lot.” 

Louis erupts into another face splitting smile, and he’s eternally grateful that Harry can’t see his face from his shoulder. 

“Thanks for not letting me die of hypothermia.” 

Harry laughs, and then groans, gripping his stomach again. 

After another moment Harry continues, “I was dreading this Christmas so much.” 

“Christmas alone sucks.” 

“It really does.” 

Another pause. 

“Lou?” 

“Yeah?” 

“When your heat gets fixed will you still come see me?” 

“Course. You should come see me too,” Louis mumbles. Something deep in his belly bubbles over at the thought of Harry knocking at his door.   

“Oh,” Harry says, like he’d forgotten Louis wasn’t  _ actually  _ a stray he picked up somewhere along the way. “Is your flat much like mine?” 

“I mean, yes, but much colder.”

Harry sits up a little straighter and smiles, before he yawns. 

“Getting sleepy?” Louis asks, quietly.

Harry nods, eyes dancing, even as they droop, and Louis tugs at the top of his hair playfully to get his attention. 

“I wanna give you something, before you go to bed.” 

“You already gave me those ornaments though,” Harry drawls. His speech has slowed significantly in the last ten minutes. “And the multi-colored lights. 

“Yeah, there’s just one more thing.” 

Louis stands, and the small disappointed grunt Harry lets out doesn’t go unnoticed. He walks across the room to his bag, and finds the small plastic one he’d stuffed inside earlier. He returns to Harry’s side and sets it in his lap. 

Harry carefully fiddles with the plastic, like it’s delicate, beautiful wrapping paper, and Louis has never been more endeared by another person in his entire life. 

When he finds what’s inside, Harry gasps a little, his eyes much wider than they were moments ago. 

“Is that...” He starts to ask, pulling out the velvet soft stocking from the bag. 

“Got your initial on it everything,” Louis confirms, just above a whisper. 

It’s late, but it feels much later. And it’s just a stocking, but when Harry meets his eyes, it feels like Louis spent much more than he did on this small gift. 

The next thing Louis knows, Harry’s arms are wrapped tight around him. He buries his head in Louis’ neck, and once his brain catches up he pulls Harry closer from the shoulders and squeezes him back. 

Harry sniffs once, and releases Louis from his hold. Louis misses that hug the second it’s over, and wonders if it would be too obvious if he leaned in a moment more just to memorize Harry’s smell. Louis finds himself staring at Harry’s jumper clad chest, but catches himself in time to look up at Harry’s face before it’s too obvious. Though, when he sees Harry’s expression, they make eye contact, and that doesn’t do much for Louis’ state of overwhelm. 

“Thank you  _ so _ much,” Harry whispers. “Thank you.” 

Louis smiles, self consciously and shrugs, trying to dismiss the fluttering in his belly. 

“Least I could do.” 

“It’s really not,” Harry says. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

 

___

 

The next day, Louis’ heat is fixed. He receives a call from his landlord in the afternoon, when Louis’ out and about, avoiding the cold of his flat. The man informs him that someone on the maintenance team saw the ticket for his heating unit and agreed to come in and fix it. Louis’ so relieved he nearly cries in the middle of Panera, and as soon as he’s off the phone, he thinks of Harry. 

This means he doesn’t have a reason to visit Harry tonight. He’d have a reason to invite Harry over if they’d exchanged numbers, but in the light of Harry’s gorgeous presence, Louis had forgotten about any scenarios where he’d need to call Harry—where Harry isn’t already  _ right there _ . So he hadn’t asked for Harry’s number. 

The attachment is scary and new. It’s indicative of something very different, something Louis should’ve seen coming the moment he’d ogled the pigeon-toed boy with tinsel wrapped around his neck. 

Maybe he’s wrong, maybe this swelling in his chest is some oncoming heartburn. Or maybe he should just admit to himself he saw a bush with some green left in it and he thought of Harry’s eyes. 

Fuck. 

Louis had seen the feelings coming to crush him from a mile away—the moment Harry invited him inside. And it’s not really that he’s afraid of them. He’s just afraid of feeling them alone. 

He sighs, letting his eyes fall shut a moment, and in his mind he sees a bright, smiley Harry. He can hear his laugh, and feel his inviting aura, and Louis thinks he knows. When they’re together it  _ feels _ right, and it feels mutual.

Louis collects himself in the Panera that’s seen him through two emotional lapses now, and gathers his things to leave. He gets to go home, and that’s such a relief, but first, he thinks he may have to make a couple stops. 

First, to the store with all the holiday decorations in the window. 

Next, to apartment twenty eight. 

He could be wrong, but there’s only one surefire way to find out. 

Louis shifts his weight from one foot to the other for a couple minutes, as he waits for Harry to answer the door. When he does, he’s wearing loose, grey sweatpants, and has puffy bags under his eyes. 

“Oh, hey Lou,” Harry greets, happily, though his voice is crackly, and he coughs once he’s finished. 

“Um, hi. Is now a bad time?” 

Louis is mortified. He’s come with the determination of someone coming to win their man, and here Harry stands, an adorably snuffly boy. One that Louis isn’t even sure returns these new feelings. 

“No, come in. Was just having a nap is all.” 

“Oh, god,” Louis whimpers lowly. “I’m sorry. I can come back later.” 

“No, you’re fine. I’m happy to see you,” Harry assures him. “What’s up?”

“I just… well, I have something for you.” Louis admits, a fresh wave of embarrassment flooding his face and chest in a quick swoop. 

“You know you don’t have to bring me gifts to see me, right?” Harry teases.

“Yeah,” Louis says softly, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Is it behind your back?” 

It is. It’s between his fingers, behind his back, waiting to bring in that last flattening dose of mortification. The one that finishes him off. This was a stupid idea. Why on earth did he think of doing this? 

Harry smiles softly, “I’m glad you know you don’t  _ have _ to bring me gifts, but… I’d still like to see, Lou.” 

God he’s so cute. He looks so soft, and Louis just wants to cuddle him, and kiss him all over his face. Is that too much? It might be too much. And besides, he can’t do any of that so long as this dreaded item sits behind his back. 

“Okay, but...” Louis starts and stops. “Okay, I’ll show you. But this is… well, you don’t have to, um. Accept this one. If I’ve… misunderstood something here, I’d rather you tell me.” 

Harry furrows his brow, but nods his head, “Alright, go on.” 

Louis releases his hand, and keeps the item held tight in the other, and slowly brings it between them so that Harry can see very plainly what he’s brought him. 

“Is that mistletoe?” Harry asks, softly. 

Louis blushes deep red, nods quickly, and shoves it to Harry’s chest. 

“Do with that, erm. What you will,” he sputters out quickly, wincing a little at the immediate silence. 

Still, he feels Harry take it from his hand, and his belly swoops and his chest aches and his palms sweat when a smiles creeps across Harry’s face. 

“You know where this would look great?” Harry asks. 

Louis shakes his head, barely meeting Harry’s eyes before looking down again. 

He sees Harry lift the hand with mistletoe in it, while his free hand reaches for Louis’ face.

Harry’s steady hand meets his chin, and tilts it upward, so they lock eyes. 

Harry smiles warmly at him, before glancing up, and gestures for Louis to do the same. His heart beats hard in his chest when he sees that Harry’s lifted the mistletoe just above their heads. Between them. 

And when he looks back down, to Harry’s face, he’s relieved and terrified to find that Harry’s moved in closer. 

Then their lips meet. Then Louis stops thinking of anything at all. 

Harry’s just as warm as he looks as he leans into Louis’ space, using his free hand to cup Louis’ cheek as he kisses him long and soft. It’s gentle, and assuring, and insistent, and when Harry pulls away, Louis thinks he might melt into a puddle on the floor. 

Moments later, Harry giggles breathily, and grabs Louis’ hand to squeeze it. “You wanna come in?” 

Louis nods. 

“Good,” Harry smiles. “I’ll protect you from the cold.” 

Harry doesn’t know that Louis’ heat is fixed, but he doesn’t need to know just yet. 

Louis tries to think on his feet. Be clever, or something, and says, “Thanks for making sure I don’t freeze to death. I, erm. I like the new method.” 

Harry smirks, but it’s filled with kindness and the best kind of warmth. 

“Thanks for making sure I’m not alone this Christmas.” 

Louis smiles at that. “I’d like to make sure you’re not alone well after that, too.”

Harry pulls him further inside, letting the door fall shut behind them, and wraps an arm around Louis’ waist for easier access. Harry kisses the side of his head, and Louis feels gooey and grateful and relieved. 

Harry blasts his Christmas music so loud, Louis can feel the bass of  _ Santa Baby _ in his veins. He laughs, thinking that the Louis of last week—of two days ago, even—would be incredibly annoyed. But as he watches Harry’s hips sway around the corner as he walks, picking up his flat, and flashing smiles Louis’ way every few minutes, all he feels is lucky. 

Lucky, and warm. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Leave comments and kudos if you feel so inclined.  
> You can reblog the post on tumblr [here](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com/post/170987778034/ive-got-my-love-to-keep-me-warm-by). Feel free to say hey or follow while you're there. ;)


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